


Reunited

by Archangel_dare



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Blood and Sand, Spartacus: Vengeance, Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 21:52:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6131304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archangel_dare/pseuds/Archangel_dare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Great and unfortunate purpose concluded, Spartacus passed into the after life, gaining long awaited reunion with treasured wife, yet the gods had seen fit to grant him final audience with another woman long passed from world of living.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reunited

Only sound of slow, labored breathing filled his ears. He tried to move his limbs but they would not answer to command. His chest felt tight as if dead weight of a body lay over him. He had believed dying would give peace, but lying in dark abyss, he wondered if he would be denied peace even in death. Spartacus opened his eyes and shut them quickly to block out the brilliance of the sun. Sighing heavily, he opened eyes and pushed himself up to sitting position. He took deep breaths and sat eyes closed for a moment, hesitant to move his head one way or another lest it feel like sloshing wineskin. A soft scoff fell from his lips; he hadn't been so cautious when waking up and standing in the morning since he was a 13 year old boy celebrating first successful hunt. Spartacus opened his eyes again and pushed himself to his feet, taking in the beautiful grassy steppes of his homeland. He had never believed he would see Thrace again. His eyes watered and tears threatened to spill down cheeks. He wondered if the gods were playing cruel jest and he would truly wake up in Hades. For now he would enjoy the lands he roamed as boy and young man. Soft wind blew the grass flat over the field, drawing his attention to dwellings made of wood and stone which looked like his former village. He walked towards them, eager but anxious to see what awaited him in the haunted memories of his past.

He walked deeper into the village in silence, afraid sound would be all it took to make nostalgic image disappear like morning mist. Spartacus turned when he heard the creaking of a wooden door and dropped to his knees in disbelief. Sura, his beautiful Sura, stepped from behind the door and onto the grass and dirt of the walkway. A soft smile adorned her lips and she walked up to him. Spartacus' hands shook as they grazed her soft, unblemished skin. His hands grazed up her trim calves, then her thighs, and finally rested on her thick hips. He pulled her closer and rested his head on her stomach. The gentle touch of her arms wrapping around his head and brushing his shoulders was his undoing. Tears flooded from his eyes, soaking her purple gown. His shoulders shook violently and sobs broke from his lips. Sura stroked his hair, neck, and shoulders, whispering sweet words of comfort. The burden of years of slavery and war and death lifted from him. All he had ever fought for was his wife, and finally he could spend eternity in her arms.

"My husband," Sura's voice was husky with unshed tears. "What terrible burden you have carried in my name." Spartacus squeezed her tighter to him. For so long he had fueled himself with memory of her sweet voice and touch, but memory had failed to ease the ache in his soul for her.

"I would bear all again, for same outcome." His voice shook and cracked with emotion.

"I would not let you from arms, to see such horrors again." She smiled and he chuckled at her. Had he any clue how much he would enjoy everything that made her her, he would have never wasted time with other women of his village. Spartacus stood, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissed her deeply, savoring the sweet honeyed taste of her lips. His hands bunched the fabric of her gown, eager to bare her body to hungry eyes. Sura smiled against his lips and pulled back slightly. Her eyes darted behind them to the home she had come from. A creaking behind him drew his eyes back to the door. Sura bit her lips against the infectious smile that threatened to claim them and watched Spartacus' reaction as his eyes digested the being before him. Shocked, Spartacus watched the woman uncharacteristically shy and wary concealing herself halfway behind the door.

'Mira,' he thought and his chest tightened. Flashes of memory hit him like a fist to gut: the ax lodging into her shoulder, her falling to the ground, holding her bloodied in his arms, and Naevia telling him that spirit had left body. From the corner of his eye, he saw Sura nod and Mira stepped onto the grass and walked up to him. Spartacus turned to her and clenched his hands to side. He wasn't sure how he was seeing Mira. He wasn't sure what to say to her. After her death he was shocked to feel that his heart ached; he believed his ability to feel his heart had ceased when he had burned Sura's body. Too late he realized that Mira had brought him comfort, peace, and stability in times where little was to be found. In hindsight he realized that Mira had meant more to him than he had originally believed. Yet this understanding left more questions and uncertainty than anything else. Mira stopped a few steps in front of him, biting plump lips. She looked nervous, as if she wasn't sure if she should be standing in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sura smiling lightly; it seemed she was the only one sure of Mira's purpose.

"You waited beyond grave." Spartacus said stunned, unable to form the correct words to say. "My dreamed peace after death never included you." Instantly he knew those were not good words to speak. Hurt flashed quickly on Mira's face but she disguised it well, perhaps all previous rejections had given her that ability.

"Apologies." Spartacus winced as she gave humorless laugh. "Perhaps I believed this my peace after death, yet still am tormented." She tilted her chin up in that determined way he had come to expect of her and made a move to walk passed him. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, bracing her against his body. She looked slightly shocked, but made no move to pull away.

"Offense was not intent." He struggled to find something else to say.

"Yet blade struck true as always." She moved to pull away again. Spartacus sighed and pulled her to him again, wrapping his arms around her hips and head. He inhaled the sweet scent of roses in her hair, scent he had not smelled on her since their last night together in the House of Batiatus.

"Mira. Love was absent my touch; I would not expect you to consider me your peace."

"Your compassion was all ever known; perhaps that was enough, Spartacus." Mira cursed the feeling of wet tears pooling in her eyes. She believed herself stronger than this; why then did she crumble at mere touch? When she had awoken in the afterlife to view never seen, she had not known what to think. She had believed that the gods had finally granted her peace in a new land where she could live happily. But illusion was shattered when she laid eyes on Sura: the woman who had forever denied her happiness in life. In an instant, Mira knew she had not found the peace of the afterlife but instead the torture of Tartarus. Rage, hatred, and sorrow filled her bosom to point of choking breath. Mira was certain she had not even hated Illithyia as much as she hated Spartacus' wife, but whereas Illithyia had given cause, Sura had been blameless to Mira's unreasonable envy and anger. Sura had been Spartacus' wife; she alone had earned his heart and devotion. It was Mira who sought to wrest such things for her own. And she had paid price dearly. She had known that Spartacus loved only his wife from first meeting. She had known that Sura was all that gave man breath, as if Sura alone created the air. She had known that Spartacus would never love another, yet she, with foolishness the like of a young girl unblemished by experience, told herself that Spartacus could love her, if he but set mind to purpose. She had told herself that just a pale shadow of the inferno he felt for Sura would be enough to feed hungering soul. She had lied to herself and no longer could desperate lie bring sustenance when faced with innocent comments from Chadara, Nasir, and Naevia.

Mira had unintentionally given voice to her thoughts and asked with what wretched purpose had the gods sought to bring her here. To which Sura replied that they would wait for Spartacus so he could be rewarded for glorious purpose with those he had loved dearly and lost to cruel hands. Mira had scoffed and walked out of the dwelling to the serene fields. The gods saw fit to gift Spartacus with both loving wife and whore who filled his bed as reward, but for Mira, it was no reward but condemnation for her thoughts in life. She would be forever miserable watching Spartacus love his wife for eternity, while she would rot in the shadows of their love. She would sooner end her life permanently than do so. Once darkness grew, she had laid in the grass, wondering if Sura spoke truth. Could Spartacus had really loved her? Did the gods see fit to finally give what she asked for? She would have to wait for Spartacus' arrival to know such truth. Through mystic fire, Mira watched with Sura as Spartacus continued to wage war on Rome. She watched as he took Sinuessa en Valle and watched as he begun affair with the Roman woman Laeta; Mira instantly felt shame to think that Sura had watched her own intimate encounters with Spartacus.

'You brought him comfort in time of despair.' Sura had told her, as if that had absolved her of all affronts. Mira watched as countless of her friends fell to Roman sword or were nailed to crosses and hoisted along the road and turned her eyes, unable to see her friends suffering. Lastly, they watched as Spartacus succumbed to his wounds and Mira saw Sura's small smile. She couldn't imagine waiting as long as Sura had for her husband's return to her arms.

'But then,' Mira had thought bitterly. "You could if promise of eternal love and joyous reunion awaited final breath." Sura had readied herself for Spartacus' arrival, asking if Mira was ready. Mira had shaken her head and told Sura to go see her husband in long awaited meeting, while Mira would wait. In truth, she was coward, and did not want to see the outrage on Spartacus' face when he witnessed her ruining his long anticipated return to wife's loving embrace.

"My compassion was but insult to all you deserved." Spartacus' voice brought her back from her thoughts. She told herself to move out of his arms, yet traitorous body wished one last embrace before she walked eternity in search of happier ending.

"Perhaps new course will see deserved end." Spartacus pulled her back to look into her eyes. Mira gazed to the side, refusing to give him privy to her thoughts or tears.

"You leave?"

"There has never been cause to stay." Spartacus gently grabbed her chin and tipped it back to look into her eyes. Tears betrayed her and slipped down her cheeks, but she refused to acknowledge their presence. Spartacus' lip trembled slightly and he gently wiped away evidence of her suffering.

"Would that in life I had known true estimation of my feelings, to adequately have bestowed them on recipient."

"I saw no mourning."

"You left," Sura spoke quietly. "As scene played across fire, you treaded through field." Mira looked at Sura with skeptical eye. She did not seem the type to speak falsely, yet Mira could not allow herself to hope. Besides, even if her words rang truthfully, she could not live out her days wishing of love to equal that which Sura claimed.

"Even so, I will not spend eternity consumed by envy. Better to be unloved, than knowingly found wanting." Spartacus shook his head and grabbed her shoulders tightly.

"Sura, give us a moment." He looked to his wife. She smiled gently and tossed a wickedly mischievous smile over her shoulder as she walked towards the dwelling they came from. Once she was gone, Mira stepped out of his grasp and he allowed her space.

"What words do you intend that wife should be absent."

"Only those left in barely balmed heart." He looked tortured, but Mira had seen that look enough to know that it was rarely with concern of her desperate pleas for affection.

"Speak then, that I may be on my way." Mira would not let her sympathy for his suffering blind her as in past.

"When Sura died, I believed all breath from body." Mira resisted urge to roll her eyes; of course his "confession" would begin with his wife. "I believed that no other would take her place. I believed life but a slow march to blissful abyss without her."

"This is not unknown to me, Spartacus."

"I am getting to the point of it."

"Then cut quickly and see deed done." Spartacus smirked a little at her spirit. Mira had never been one to confuse words nor shy away from truthful conversation.

"Fine then," he tilted his head towards her in joking deference. "When ax pierced your shoulder, I felt a desperation I had thought myself incapable of again. I charged back up mountain path with regard for those that followed at the dim edge of concern. I told Nasir to heat sword to seal your wound, yet it was too late; you were gone for the afterlife. I felt breath flee body, only replaced by rage at Nemetes for suggesting mission which saw you robbed of life. I was foolish to believe such rage and grief result of losing trusted friend; none but lover could weigh so heavy upon heart. Ache believed ever present since Sura's death had dimmed without notice yet returned with consuming vengeance. I realized that wound first believed to forever bleed had been carefully mended in your arms, only to be wrenched open again with greater force by your death. Only loss set stubborn mind to purpose of recognizing love's second offer." Spartacus ended his words with eyes begging her to understand and take to heart his words.

"I cannot stay Spartacus. I have spent life already desperately praying to the gods for deliverance of your heart. I will not spend eternity following same path."

"Will no words sway you to cause?"

"What cause would you have of me?" Mira finally let her tears fall freely. She was truly cursed to so eagerly wish to bend to his will like a well-trained pup. Spartacus searched her eyes, searching for some message. He knew not which words would fully convey his heart to her.

"I would have you love me, knowing that your affections are fully returned."

"And am I, fully loved, Spartacus?" Mira silently cursed herself for opening wounded heart to more grievous injury, yet she waited with baited breath for reply. Spartacus was a man of honor and truth; he would give no lie to aid cause in life and she did not believe he would lie to her now when eternity and solitude with beloved wife would be result of her leaving.

"You are. In life, loving words of Sura were tempered with actions of devotion. Allow me to afford such words for you the same whetstone now, wife." He held his hand out to her. Mira looked down at the offering, knowing full well Spartacus would not rest until he saw words with deeds etched in stone as honest legend. Wife was no title he bestowed lightly. His words were as Orpheus' song, so sweet even Hades would weep. Mira felt tentative joy take root in what she believed tenuous soil. She took his hand and he pulled her in, wrapping arms around her before taking lips in sweet kiss long denied. Hand in hand, Spartacus led her back to the dwelling, where Sura stood with knowing smile.

"I would not have thought you for sharing." Spartacus teased his wife with loving smile.

"The gods deemed you would not love another in life. I neither deemed it so, nor said another would not come in death." She gave a puckish smile akin to the one she'd given him their first night together. Spartacus smiled and pulled her to his chest, pulling Mira to same position. He embraced them, both halves of his heart, and sent a quick prayer of thanks to the gods he never believed held him in favor, yet they had given him in death, what had been denied by others, and what he denied himself, in life.


End file.
